Six Years Ago

Six years ago, I was at home in San Francisco, alone, just laid off from my job and preparing to move to New York for a fresh start. The first news I had was an email from my sister (doing her residency in NY) with a cryptic email, saying she was fine and she was going to the hospital to see if she could help out. Like everyone else in the US, I turned on the TV to see the towers fall, over and over again.

Diane had gone to the hospital, thinking that once the downtown hospitals filled up, they'd start bringing victims uptown. A few hours later, she sent the message, "They're not bringing anyone here. There's no one to bring."

As I watched the news coverage, I sat dumbfounded not just by the horror and brutality of the act, but how perfectly it expressed my emotional state over the previous months. Two weeks later, I arrived in a New York that was still speechless and reeling, trying to process what had happened. It was, ironically, the perfect time for me to arrive. I needed New York, and she needed me. Together, we would mourn and rebuild.

Six years later, the city and I have done a lot to rebuild and move forward -- if not still wary, still a little jumpy.